A Father to us Both, a Father to us All
by Deep Forest Green
Summary: AU where Valjean lives. Shortly after Valjean's confession, a newly married Marius goes to his father-in-law to make a confession of his own and to seek advice on becoming a father himself, and the two tie up a few loose ends.
1. Chapter 1

"Monsieur, there is something I feel I must confess to you. It had been a burden on my soul ever since it happened, and it is something that you deserve to know."

"By all means, tell me, Marius," said Valjean jovially as the two walked through the garden. "But I am sure that whatever secret you have will be nothing compared to the secrets I have wrongly kept from you and Cosette."

"You are wrong, Monsieur," said Marius gravely. "You see, I have sinned against you and your daughter. I am a coward and a fool and I do not deserve forgiveness. If you had known, you never would have saved me."

"I am sure that is not true," Valjean told him. "Would a coward have saved the barricade by threatening to blow it up 'and himself with it'? Would a fool have been able to track down my daughter in a city of millions, even after I tried so hard to evade both you and the police? Speak, my son, and unburden your mind. Whatever it is, I am sure it is not nearly as bad as you believe it to be."

"Remember that day in February of last year when Monsieur Thénardier and the Patron-Minette tried to rob you at the Gorbeau House?" Marius began, then paused briefly to wait for an answer. He waved it aside. "A stupid question- of course you do. How could anyone forget something like that?"

"How do you know about that?" Valjean asked curiously.

"Well, Monsieur, that's just the thing," said Marius, stuffing his hands in his pockets. "I was there. I lived in the next room. I saw all of it unfold, and I did nothing."

"You were there?" Valjean repeated in disbelief. "Why didn't you tell me before?"

"Because I was ashamed, as well I should be. Also because after everything else I had been through, it seemed unimportant. But now it is all finally starting to fit together."

"You were there... "

"And turned aside," Marius finished for him. "And it's not as if I had no means with which to intervene. I had two pistols and was told to fire them into the air to tip off the police. But I couldn't bring myself to do it."

"You were being cautious," Valjean said. "You were waiting for the right moment."

"No," Marius insisted. "You see, I had overheard their plan, and as soon as you and Cosette left, I snuck out of the apartment and went down to the police station to warn them of the robbery, but- "

"You did? You saved my life!"

"No," said Marius, bewildered at Valjean's reaction. "I couldn't do it because- "

"And you risked your own life, too! Didn't you realize Thénardier would have killed you if he'd noticed you trying to foil his plan? And you didn't even know me!"

"Well then, I guess we're even," said Marius with a nervous chuckle. "And I didn't really do it for you, anyway, I did it for- "

"Cosette, of course," Valjean said understandingly. "Then I suppose I made the right choice."

"But I didn't end up saving your life," Marius said indignantly. "I just sat there, watching, while they tied you up and defended yourself all on your own. And when the cops busted in- " Marius gasped with the sudden realization. "You ran away because the Inspector was going to arrest you! He would've recognized you!"

"There's no way you could have known that," said Valjean. "For all you knew, I was an upstanding citizen who had nothing to fear from the law."

"Nevertheless," said Marius, "the fact remains that you are a hero and I am a coward. I cannot accept your forgiveness because you do not seem to understand the gravity of my misdeed. I refused to protect Cosette when she may have been in mortal danger, and in so doing, I have brought shame to my noble father, his name and his title."

"Listen to me, Marius," said Valjean, putting a hand on the young man's shoulder. "I may be a strong man, but I am still a man, and I am not as unbreakable as I seem. I only could have held out for so long against all those thugs. They would have tortured me, tried to get me to tell them the whereabouts of Cosette. And as much as I would like to believe that I would have died before breathing a word to them, I cannot be sure. You saved my life and Cosette's life as well. Stop blaming yourself for Thénardier's misdeeds."

"I cannot, Monsieur," Marius said softly but firmly. "You see, the reason I didn't try to stop Thénardier was... my father owed a life debt to him."

Valjean's eyes widened. "Thénardier saved your father's life?"

Marius nodded. "At Waterloo. Thénardier was a sergeant, my father was a colonel. My father was gravely injured, and after the battle, Thénardier found him alive amongst the bodies. My father was so grateful that he wrote me a letter just before he died, instructing me to find Thénardier and perform for him whatever service I could."

"Couldn't it have been another Thénardier?" Valjean asked. He simply couldn't believe that Thénardier had saved someone's life. True, he had saved Marius' and Valjean's lives in the sewers, but that seemed irrelevant.

"I didn't know my neighbor- Jondrette- was Thénardier until that day," Marius told him. "I found out at the same moment you did- when he revealed that he recognized you from years back and that the whole robbery was revenge for when you 'stole' Cosette from him. If he hadn't said that right when he did, I might have done my duty and fired the shot. But I was just so thrilled to finally meet the man who had saved my father- and so horrified at what he had become- that I was very conflicted... "

"So that's why... "

Marius nodded again. "A poor excuse, I know. One should never believe second-hand accounts over what one sees with one's own eyes. But you must understand that my father was for many years- and still is- my idol. He fought bravely under Napoleon, for France, and he loved me more than anything in the world. But I never knew him because my grandfather disapproved of his politics so strongly that he gave my father the ultimatum of leaving me forever or having me disinherited. Being the honorable man he was, he chose the former. Grandfather always despised my father for marrying my mother, and he told me that my father had abandoned me. It wasn't until I grew up that I found out the truth."

"I am so sorry. I had no idea. About your father, I mean." Valjean swallowed and clasped his hands behind his back. "You know, Marius, your story contains quite a few similarities to that of Cosette. I wonder if God did not bring you two together for a reason."

"For me, Monsieur, that is no question. I knew that we were destined for each other the moment I saw her in the Luxembourg Gardens." He did not feel the need to tell Valjean that he had at first thought Cosette ugly as a prepubescent girl, nor that perhaps marrying Thénardier's poor, lovelorn daughter might have been a way to repay his debt to the man.

"It sounds as if there has been a great void in your life, that of a father," Valjean observed. "You have had to grow up too quickly and take on a great deal of responsibility for one so young."

"I have had father figures along the way," Marius told him. "Father Mabeuf, for one. He knew my father personally. He was the one who told me all about him. Later, he gave me a job when I had nowhere else to go. But when he was killed on the barricade, I didn't even notice because I was so upset about Cosette leaving the country..." He hung his head in sorrow. "I miss him. I wish I could tell him how much he meant to me. He was poor and humble, yet very wise. A true man of God."

"It is not my place to say this," said Valjean confidentially, "but from what you have told me, your grandfather is not deserving of your love or respect. I do not blame you for severing all ties to him, but now I wonder why you are trying to make amends when it seems like a futile effort."

"We are blood," Marius said simply. "And there is always the fact of money."

Valjean nodded. "True enough," he agreed.

"He is all I have," Marius added.

"For someone without a decent father figure growing up, Marius, you have turned into a remarkable young man. I think your father would be quite proud to see what you have become. He wouldn't have wanted you to blindly heed his words if they turned out to be harmful without his knowledge of it."

"How am I supposed to be a decent father to my own children if I never had one myself?" Marius asked rhetorically, helplessly throwing his hands up into the air. "I want my children to know their father. But I don't think I'll ever be able to live up to my own father's example. Or, for that matter, yours."

"They are your children, Marius. You will know what to do." Valjean smiled warmly. "Look at me. I lost my father when I was ten years old. I barely remember him. My mother went a year later. My sister and I were orphans, and she began to take care of me at an age when she could barely take care of herself. She had seven children and was widowed just before a freezing cold winter during the Terror. The tables were turned, and I had to take care of them all. I became a father when I was over fifty years old and was on the run from the law. What did I know about fatherhood then? Nothing. Your children teach you. You do not need any inspiration to draw on other than the grace of God."

"I hope you are right, Monsieur," said Marius, looking away. Over the hedge, in the distance, the sun was beginning to set. Marius reflected how beautiful Paris was and how he never wanted to leave the heart of his beloved Patria. It was haunted by the ghosts of his fellow students, and he felt their presence as warm air breezing past him against the lavender sky. There would be another chance for him to fight. He would rather die than be forced to live in exile, away from France and her people. But even if that should somehow happen someday, he knew that he would still devote his life to his country even if from beyond its borders. He'd find a way to make his friends and father proud, and in addition he would give his own children something to hold up and revere. Summer was coming again.

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**A/N: What do you think? Should I continue this? Tell me in the reviews!**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: This chapter was requested by Eponinefan24601, who gave me the prompt of Valjean telling Marius about his encounter with the Bishop. Merci, ma amie! I didn't forget. I'm so sorry it took this long, but better late than never. (Oh, and in this version, all Marius knows about Valjean's past is that he used to be a prisoner, but none of the details- yet.)**

**Disclaimer: Don't own LM, don't profit from writing fic. **

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It was getting dark outside, and Marius and Valjean decided to reenter the house. Cosette was out shopping with Toussaint and would spend the night at Gillenormand's. Valjean lit a candle and sat down on the worn-out sofa facing the fireplace. Marius headed towards the mantelpiece and picked up the silver candlesticks, eyeing them curiously.

"Monsieur, these candlesticks appear to have been partially melted at the bases," he observed, holding them up to the light.

Valjean blushed deeply, embarrassed and frightened. Not that he believed Marius would turn him in, but just out of instinct. He began to get up. "D- do you think it looks bad?" he stammered stupidly.

"No, not at all. It's very subtle, but I suppose it could have been an aesthetic choice on the part of the silversmith. Where and from whom did you acquire them?"

"They were not in that condition when I acquired them," Valjean answered, putting the candlesticks back and tactfully dodging the question.

"So it was an accident, then? They fell into the fire?"

"Not exactly," Valjean admitted. The source of the candlesticks' deformity was a particular source of shame for him. He went to sit back down. "They were to be a wedding present for you and Cosette. The disfigurement will undoubtedly hurt their retail value, to be sure, and for that I give you my sincerest apologies."

"Oh no, Monsieur, I would never think of selling your candlesticks," Marius insisted. "Even if we needed the money, I know that they are a precious family heirloom and that Cosette would never permit me to part with them. They are quite beautiful, in their own unique way, and I sense that they are antiques as well, from before the Revolution. How on earth did you manage to hide them during the Terror?"

"I cannot speak for the man who possessed them at that time," said Valjean tiredly. "All I know is that he was quite far from Paris."

"Was he your father? Your grandfather?"

Valjean shook his head. "A stranger. I met him only once, in the province of Digne."

Marius gaped incredulously. "Digne? In the South?"

Valjean nodded. "He was a Bishop. I did not know his name at the time, but upon reading of his death in the newspaper several years later, I learned that it was Charles-François Myriel, and that the townspeople had nicknamed him 'Bienvenue'."

Marius smiled at that. "Bishop Welcome," he said.

"And he was," Valjean continued. "He was the kindest and most hospitable man I have ever had the privilege of meeting."

At this point, Valjean realized that he was dangerously close to revealing certain aspects of his path, and he was conflicted. He was approaching the point of no return, and this was his last chance to steer the conversation away from himself. He did not consider lying to be an option. He felt he owed Marius some information, after the latter had just bared his own soul for him without being prompted. But he hesitated, hanging on Marius' next words.

"When did you meet him?" Marius asked.

Valjean sighed, relieved that Marius was stalling on the big questions. "It was in 1815," he replied, sinking deeper into the sofa. "So long ago now."

"1815," Marius repeated. "The same year as the Battle of Waterloo and Bonaparte's final exile." He paused, eyeing Valjean curiously. "Why didn't you ever go back to see him?"

"I was busy," Valjean replied truthfully.

"You came by his church and he gave you the candlesticks as a parting gift?" Marius asked. The thought briefly crossed his mind that his father-in-law had stolen them, or that they had been bestowed as an act of charity, but he immediately pushed away both theories. Cosette's father was a highly moral person, and by no stretch of the imagination could he be considered a charity case.

Valjean nodded. Marius felt like he was missing something.

"I was a man in great need," said Valjean sadly. "I had fallen. Only the Bishop could see me for who I really was." He looked up at Marius with piercing brown eyes. "No one will ever be able to convince me, Monsieur, that that man I met in the township of Digne was not in fact an angel of God."

Marius resisted the urge to roll his eyes at this. Since he had stopped attending mass regularly a few years ago, he considered himself above superstitious beliefs such as angels. Only peasants believed in such things anymore. He knew that there were plenty of people out in the countryside for whom the Revolution may as well not have happened. But Cosette and her father had lived in Paris for years. M. Fauchelevent had not been a peasant for a long time. Not having told Marius about his time in the convent, the younger man assumed that he was a modern, educated bourgeois of independent wealth. Surely he too had been touched by the teachings of the Enlightenment, and wanted to take France forward and not back into the past.

"Monsieur, you are the holiest man I have ever known- I do not see how you could have fallen," Marius said, trying to ease the tension between them.

"I tried to forget," Valjean continued, as if Marius had not spoken. "I nearly fell again. It frightens me to this day to think how close I came to losing my soul, to making the worst mistake of my life."

The pieces started coming together in Marius' mind. "So that's why you threw the candlesticks into the fire?" he asked.

Valjean nodded. "It was nearly a decade ago. I was wealthy and comfortable, content to live enclosed in my own personal sanctum. But... events conspired to put my past back into the spotlight. It was the memory of the Bishop and his act of mercy that led me back onto the right path."

"So the Bishop was the man who saved you from your days as a convict?" Marius asked, finally beginning to understand.

"Yes. I only wish that he could have seen that his kindness was not in vain, that I had taken his every word and gesture to heart... "

"I am sure he knows," Marius said, trying to comfort him. "I am sure he is looking down on you from heaven and rejoicing."

"In any case, Cosette saved me just as much as the Bishop did. You see, for years I was the mayor of a town called Montreuil-sur-Mer - under a false name, of course. But in 1823, the year before I adopted Cosette, everything changed. The prefect of police - Inspector Javert - told me that a man named Champmathieu had been arrested in my place. Since it was thought to be a second offense - breaking parole and then stealing apples - they were going to put him in the galleys for life. I battled with myself over this dilemma for longer than I care to remember. Finally, I suppose, the better angels of my nature won out, and I went to Arras where the trial was taking place and turned myself in. At first no one believed me. But when they examined the evidence and saw that it was true, I was arrested and sentenced to death. For some reason the King commuted my sentence, and I went to Toulon again, this time wearing a green cap. I believe I would not have had the will to escape had it not been for the task with which Cosette's mother had charged me - to take her daughter away from the Thénardiers and raise her as my own. And that is what I have been doing ever since."

Marius' expression was so bewildered as to be comical. His eyes and mouth were wide open as they could be, and he scarcely dared to breathe. He did not know what he had expected from the man who had carried him home through the sewers, risking his life at every turn - but he dared not question Valjean's story. After all, why would he lie about something like this?

"If you do not believe me, I am sure you can find newspaper accounts from that period," Valjean continued unnecessarily. "I was declared dead trying to rescue a workingman; that was what permitted me to escape. I was number 9430, formerly 24601."

"Monsieur, your story is... incredible," Marius began, as if surfacing from a long dive and catching his breath. "You must tell everyone right away."

Marius immediately put his hand over his mouth, shocked and embarrassed; he couldn't believe what he had just said. "If you tell everyone, they can't arrest you," he continued stupidly, trying to save face. "You'll be a hero for millions of people, the biggest celebrity in France. You'll be all anyone talks about for weeks." The light was returning to Marius' eyes, as it dawned on him that this might be a way for him to honor his dead friends.

Valjean raised his eyebrows curiously. To Marius' surprise, he didn't seem to be dismissing the idea off the bat. "You and Cosette would be willing to put yourselves in that situation? With the understanding that this king might not be so merciful as the last? You would do that?"

"Truth is the great enemy of silence," Marius intoned, remembering something Courfeyrac had once said. "The will of the people is the strongest tool we have against injustice. Once they know what you have done, the king will not be able to execute you without turning you into a martyr. With the uprising still fresh in people's memories, we have no time to lose."

Marius felt terrible for dragging his shy, humble father-in-law into the limelight like this, with his ill-thought-out plan. But the more he talked, the more sense it all made. He was starting to convince even himself.

"If it were only myself involved, I might consider it," Valjean began. "You make a very good argument, Monsieur Pontmercy, and a very bold one. But how exactly do you propose to go about it? Cosette is with child."

"Forgive me for even mentioning it," said Marius, hanging his head in shame. "It was a stupid idea. I wish I'd never said it. You're right, it's foolish, and after everything you've been through, you deserve to live in peace."

"It's not foolish," said Valjean evenly, turning back to the fire. "It's good that you're thinking of ways to carry out your friends' unfinished tasks. But I would ask you to wait until I am dead to reveal my full story. It will not be long now; I can sense it. Then, if Cosette consents, you may do as you wish."

"I shall use pseudonyms to protect the families of those involved," said Marius, thinking of his friends. "Perhaps I could even publish it as a work of fiction."

Valjean raised an eyebrow. "It's not a bad idea," he said thoughtfully. "But are you sure a novel would get your message across as thoroughly as a memoir?"

"A novel is immortal," Marius declared. "A news report is fleeting, bound to be subject to all sorts of criticism and conjecture. Being a lawyer, I know. But a writer has more freedom, more room to be subjective and convey morals in his art... And your story, I believe, is one that deserves such treatment."

Valjean smiled. "I think your friends would be proud to hear you say that," he said.

Marius nodded. "If anyone asks, I can always say it was based on a true story... but I don't have to tell them where fact ends and fiction begins. It doesn't matter, because what I write as fiction may well be someone else's fact."

"I shall write down everything you need to know," said Valjean, reaching for a quill and a piece of paper. "You do know, Marius, that your survival was nothing short of a miracle. It took more than just me to save you; there had to have been divine intervention. I believe that God has preserved you in order to continue your friends' revolution, but with words and not violence."

"I agree. They say that the pen is mightier than the sword, and I have finally begun to realize the truth in that proverb." He paused. "But I am no writer. How will I get this to the world without letting everyone know who I am?"

"Take as much time as you need, Marius. If you do not want to write it yourself, there are ghostwriters you can hire to do it for you."

"Really? Like who?"

"I don't know, but you can ask around. I hear that an up-and-coming poet only a few years older than yourself has published a popular novel about a deformed man living in a cathedral. Perhaps he would be sympathetic to our situation."

"Interesting," said Marius. Suddenly something else occurred to him. "Monsieur, if you are certain you are dying, it is time to draft a will- I can act as your lawyer, if you need a witness- "

"I have already drafted my will, Monsieur," Valjean said. "I have long debated what to do with the candlesticks. Everything else I have left to you and Cosette, but those, even in their damaged state, are more precious to me than anything else that I own. It is not for a lack of love that I withhold them from you, but I recognize that you are already set to live quite a comfortable life." He swallowed. "If you require the candlesticks as proof of my adventures, then that part of the will can be changed. For now, I have left it up to you and Cosette to choose a worthy person to receive the candlesticks. But they must be given away, and not kept hoarded from the poor. Do you understand?"

Marius nodded. "Yes, Monsieur. I will not be selfish. I know that you have raised Cosette to be generous and forbearing with her wealth. I will attempt to honor that as best I can in the way we raise our children." He bowed and started out of the room.

"Good." Valjean smiled. "You and I were the only survivors of the barricade. That means we have a duty to keep alive in spirit those whom we could not save in the flesh. As I am about to die, that burden is passed along to you."

"I know, Monsieur," said Marius. "I feel it on my shoulders, and it seems to grow stronger every day. The longer it has been since the rebellion, the harder it is to forget."

"Every generation has its revolution, Marius," said Valjean. "I missed mine, so I participated in yours. But the success or failure of a revolution is not only determined by its immediate impact. We may never know the inspiration we have given to others. For you, I think there may be another revolution ahead."

Marius smiled back and nodded. "I hope so."

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**A/N: Thanks for reading, everyone! I had a snow day, and after finding a whole bunch of episodes of Shoujo Cosette a few days ago, I finally finished the series! It was so good- if you haven't seen it already, you should totally go watch it. I have started to picture the characters the way they are in the anime, which is saying a lot because normally I don't like anime or manga. **

**Eponinefan24601, I hope this was what you had in mind with your prompt, although I realize it's a bit long and not just about the Bishop. **

**This two-shot is over, but I'm thinking of writing one or two companion pieces to this. So keep an eye out for those...**


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